


Super Science

by jdphoenix



Series: drabble collections [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of skitz fics imported from my tumblr.</p><p>Updated 07/07 with chapters 5 through 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sleeping together

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my tumblr [here](http://ilosttrackofthings.tumblr.com).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it."
> 
> Takes place after 2x11 "Aftershocks"

Skye and Fitz aren’t  _sleeping together_ , but they’re sleeping together. Actually right now he’s sleeping between her legs, his body kind of curled around her stomach, while she works on her phone. 

She’s been having trouble sleeping ever since … ever since what happened. Fitz started out saying he’d sit up with her until she fell asleep but he never quite made it back to his bed and it turns out he’s been having nightmares too. So they’re sleeping together. (But they’re not  _sleeping together_. She just feels that’s an important point to keep in mind here.)

He takes a deep breath and his weight sort of lifts off her and then he settles back down, his fingers digging into her hip and cuddling her close like she‘s a teddy bear. She keeps typing away.

“Hey,” he says, his lips smacking as he tries to swallow down his dry mouth. 

“I understand the whole sleep talking thing,” she says - after a couple weeks, she’s used to it and even kind of likes it, “but what I don’t understand is the princess/dragon dream and why I’m in it.”

He’s still half-asleep and when he turns his face up towards her, the stubble on his cheek scrapes her waist in a way that has her wishing he wasn’t between her legs because there are things she’d like to be doing and he’s kind of in the way. (Or he could be there and  _not_  in the way - which is not a thought she wants to dwell on. Nuh uh. Nope. Not in the spirit of their sleeping arrangements and she is all about respecting the spirit.)

“Princess … dragon?”

“Yeah.” She keeps her eyes fixed on her phone because he sounds super cute right now, which means he probably  _looks_  super cute too and that might be a problem. “And me, apparently.”

He takes in a deep breath and rolls over. His one arm is still caught between her back and the pillows and his legs are still thrown over one of hers. She feels cold.

“I was a wizard,” he says slowly, like he’s only remembering bits and pieces. “But I wasn’t a real wizard - like the kind that would make Simmons angry - I was just me.”

She kicks up a little with the leg he’s currently holding captive. “Just you is fine.”

“I know that,” he says absently. The hand at her back starts rubbing small circles. “But all my gadgets and gizmos, they couldn’t stop the dragon from stealing the princess. I needed someone who could do _real_ magic. I needed a miracle.” 

She can feel him looking at her and finally gives him her full attention. (He is exactly as adorable as expected, with one hand resting on his forehead and his eyes still bleary from sleep and the stubble coming in. It is not fair.) His fingers at her back have curled in so his nails are trailing along her spine.

“I needed you.”

There’s a tightness deep inside her, something painful and wonderful at the same time. She pushes it away and looks back at her phone to escape his eyes.

“I’m not a miracle,” she says. It comes out softer than she means it to.

“Yeah, you are.” He sounds so sure that she looks at him before thinking better of it. She must look disbelieving because he lifts his hand from her back to point down at himself. “Scientist,” he says. “Trust me. I know.”

She laughs. She can’t help it. Just something about the way he says it chases away her blues.

It’s not long laughter but by the time she’s done, he’s curled back around her. His stubble burns a little as he nuzzles against her side.

“Missed that,” he says dreamily. He’s already half-asleep. 

When she’s sure he’s really out, she sets the phone aside and watches him dream.


	2. "I love you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I love you."

Fitz is the first person to say it to her in … well, in a really long time. He says it so casually - because she found a forgotten packet of ketchup in the fridge and saved his sandwich - that he totally misses seeing her face after. It’s not  _love_ -love, but it’s an easy, everyday kind of love. It’s new. And it’s good. Really good.

 

 

 

Skye says it when Fitz is nursing his aching head and pride after Lorelei. There’s a “we” instead of an “I” and Simmons is there, nodding along in the corner, but it makes his heart feel a little lighter just having her hear to say it. Skye’s  _alive_  - and that’s still a huge relief every day - and she’s family.

 

 

 

She says it again the day he wakes up. She hugs him so tight it hurts and whispers it in his ear and kisses his jaw because it‘s the closest bit of him. He doesn’t know it then but even if there wasn’t a tube down his throat, he wouldn’t be able to answer her. He does know that he wishes it was Jemma clinging to him like this.

 

 

 

He’s holding her while she cries in quarantine and she keeps saying that she’s  _wrong_ , she’s  _broken_ , it’s  _all her fault_. And she should have known she was a monster, look at her father. How could she ever think she’d get to keep something good?

“I love you,” he says. He says it again and again, emphasizing a different word every time and then all at once so she can’t miss his meaning. That she is  _good_. She is  _perfect_. And no matter what happens next, no matter what anyone else says or does, he’s not going anywhere.


	3. "how badly did I fuck up?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Okay, on a scale from one to I just summoned Lord Voldemort, how badly did I fuck up?”
> 
> Takes place after 2x14 but in a magical world where going to the cabin in the woods does not end terribly or involve Fitz not being allowed to know where Skye is. (Seriously, why wasn't Fitz allowed to know where Skye was?)

A loud crack splits the chill air in the cabin and the pressure in Skye’s head instantly eases. Her eyes remain screwed shut. “On a scale from one to ‘I just summoned Lord Voldemort,’ how badly did I fuck up?”

“Technically,” Fitz says, his voice tinny from the speakers, “saying his name was what summoned him.”

She gives the tablet, propped up on the bookshelf, a glare. Around her, the DWARFs keep buzzing, examining her and the big old rock she dragged in from outside.

“The stone is perfectly split down the middle. A clean break.” Fitz sounds proud and so is Skye, honestly. 

This isn’t the first rock Fitz has had her practice on, but it’s the first one she’s broken into anything less than a million pieces. She steps forward to slide her fingers over the exposed interior. It’s almost smooth. 

“You’re getting stronger,” Fitz says.

“Yeah, not what I’m going for.”

“Your  _control_  is. And there’s no sign of stress on anything else in the cabin.” Doc spins past Skye’s head, as if to illustrate Fitz’s point. “The DWARFs are all fine, too. Not a single screw out of place.” She knows what he’s gonna say next before he says it. “You should really let me come up there to watch in person.”

“ _No!_ ” she yells before he’s even done. “No, Fitz! We’ve been over this! I appreciate the help and I know how hard it was for you to send the DWARFs up here-”

“They’re not in any danger-”

“They are!” She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Listen, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not gonna risk you dying just so you can be here in person.”

Fitz is still sitting calmly in the tablet’s screen, watching her. “You done?” he asks after several seconds pass. Much as she doesn’t want him here, she almost wishes he was just so he couldn’t do that. The screen and the distance between them make it easier for him not to get riled up when she does. Of course they also keep him  _alive_ , so that’s kind of important.

“Yes,” she huffs.

“Good. Because you might want to know that the DWARFs are still scanning everything, including you, constantly and nothing has broken or shaken since you split the rock.” He lets that sink in a moment. “So, if that’s your only objection, May said she’d drop me on her way to the Black Widow’s birthday party.”

Her mouth is open but no words are coming out. She’s not even sure which words  _should_. Maybe she could say something about the place being a mess. She’s got lady things hanging in the bathroom and she knows how he hates that. But she’s still kind of in awe over her powers not lashing out while she was emotional. Which is kind of making her a different kind of emotional, a kind that means she really needs to end this call.

“Yeah, okay,” she says, watching Dopey fly over her head.

Fitz grins broadly. “All right!” he says, sounding surprised, if happy, that she said yes. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She nods - because she can’t manage anything else - and the screen goes black. She drops into the nearest chair and lets out a ragged breath. Tears burn at her eyes.

Fitz is coming. One of the only people left in the world who isn’t afraid of her and he’s basically backing her into a corner just to get to come see her. It feels really,  _really_  good to have someone love her that much.

It’s also really terrifying in the face of all she can do. “Definitely Lord Voldemort levels,” she mutters to the DWARFs still spinning through the air. She hopes none of them caught her little near-cry.

Maybe she should clean up the bathroom before he gets here.


	4. sometimes i Wonder how i got to be so lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I told the prompter of [my Ward/Simmons Superman AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3552227/chapters/8027028) a little headcanon for Fitz/Skye in that universe and she immediately requested a second drabble about _that_. This takes place shortly after that drabble, but you don't have to read it to understand this.

When the screen goes dark and the credits start to roll, Fitz carefully turns the sound down, not wanting to wake Skye. He turns off the movie, cringing at the ongoing coverage of the crisis downtown. Superman actually had to call in help for this one. Or, should he say, _Grant_ had to call in help. Fitz is still not over that. Although he _is_ impressed that it took Jemma nearly a whole day after she found out to break down and tell him.

Fitz resists the urge to check his phone. He never worried about Superman before finding out the guy was dating his best friend, there’s no reason to worry about him now. 

Besides, the crisis has been over for hours. At this point the talking heads are just going around in circles about who’s to blame for the crater in midtown. Personally, Fitz is voting for the guy who dropped the bomb over any of the people who tried to stop him, but that kind of sense doesn’t make for good TV.

He turns off the TV entirely and waits a full minute before easing Skye’s legs up off his lab so he can wiggle out from under her.

“Not asleep,” she mumbles. Her face turns towards him but then she keeps going so she ends up curling deeper into the couch. She also gets her legs out of his hands and back into his lap. Which was absolutely intentional, of that he has no doubt.

“Yeah, you are,” he says fondly. He pulls the throw from the back of the couch and lays it over her as best he can without jostling her. Then he tries again to get out from under her.

She fights back, flexing her feet and hooking them around his torso to hold him in place.

“Skye.”

One of her eyes cracks open. “You’re the best pillow.” She’s got that expression, the one he cannot in good conscience call “innocent,” and she knows what it does to him.

“For your feet?”

“When you’re all the way over th-” she breaks off to yawn before finishing, “there.”

“Sorry, but I think your body’s kind of against you on this one.”

“Traitor,” she grouses, and he’s not sure if she means him or her body. This time he manages to get free and begins sorting himself out in the dim light. One of his shoes is next to the couch where he kicked them off but the other’s gone missing and his wallet’s not next to his phone. “Don’t goooo,” Skye whines. She rolls over to watch him fuss and tries to hook her feet around his legs. “Please?”

“You’re exhausted and I’ve gotta check in with Jemma. She hasn’t called yet.”

Skye waves a limp arm through the air. “She’s fine.”

Fitz twists his head to give her a queer look. “There was a city-wide crisis today and you’re certain Jemma’s ‘fine’?” Fitz is too, for the record, if only because he and Grant have an understanding that if Jemma’s ever kidnapped (again) or injured or put in ongoing danger, Fitz will be called as soon as is reasonably possible. So he knows she’s okay, he just wants to hear her say it. 

But this isn’t the first time Skye’s dismissed the idea of Jemma in mortal peril. Which is, frankly, more than a little odd. Just this year, Jemma’s been kidnapped no less than three times. And one of those was by a super-powered alien bent on global domination. It was kind of a big deal.

Skye blinks, some of the sleep going out of her as she realizes the severity of what she’s said. “Yes?”

Fitz sits back down on the edge of the couch and Skye has to pull her legs in quickly to avoid being sat on. She sits up, curling her legs up to her chest.

“Okay,” she says, “for the record, I wanna say I had a plan. It was a good plan. It involved candlelight and roses and that black silk thing you love me in. But since you look like we’re about to get into a fight and the only surefire way to avoid that is to abandon that plan…”

“Skye?” Fitz asks. She meets his eyes and on instinct he puts his hand over hers atop the blanket. She just looks so worried about whatever’s about to come out of her mouth that he can’t help but want to comfort her. “What’s going on?”

“You remember how I said I’m sore from taking a fall while I was booking it out of midtown?”

Fitz’s heart jumps into his throat. Skye is fine. She’s right here and okay, even if she is a little banged up. But suddenly he wonders if maybe Skye was in midtown because she was with someone. Like Jemma.

“Well, I wasn’t so much leaving as I was arriving. And also I didn’t fall. I got knocked through a brick wall by one of the Thunder Twins.”

Skye’s hand turning over to grip Fitz’s is what clues him in that he’s been quiet too long. In his defense, nothing she just said made any sense. There’s no way anyone could survive a hit from either of the Thunder Twins. If they’re not _as_ strong as Superman, it’s a near thing, and they’re not exactly known for their restraint. 

He reaches for her head, feeling around the cut she swore wasn’t as bad as it looked. Maybe she hit her head harder than she thought.

She bats his hand away. “I’m fine,” she insists again. “I’m not crazy. I’m trying to tell you something important.”

“That you miraculously survived getting knocked through a brick wall? Skye, that’s not possible.”

“It wasn’t the first time,” she says, like that somehow makes it better.

That decides things for Fitz. “We’re going to the ER,” he says firmly. He tries to stand, but Skye’s a lot stronger than she looks and keeps him in place just with her grip on his hand.

“We are not. Even if I was hurt, it’ll be a zoo after today. We are going to stay here and you will listen to me.”

“I _am_ listening! And you know what I’m hearing? My girlfriend talking crazy. So you’ll understand if I want to make sure she hasn’t suffered a concussion.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes like he’s the one being unreasonable. “Okay, how about this? I was in midtown because Grant needed my help.”

“With work?” Fitz asks. It’s not unheard of for Grant to ask Skye for her help - she’s a better hacker than anyone he’s got on payroll - but Fitz thought Grant was in the office all day before the attack and neither of them mentioned having a meeting.

“No,” Skye says slowly, “with the day saving.” He must look as confused as he feels because she tilts her head to one side and says, “Maybe imagine me in a crown?”

Fitz’s world stumbles to a halt. “No. Way.”

She pulls out a lasso - _the_ lasso - from god only knows where. “Ta-da?”

It’s really a good thing Skye didn’t let him get up earlier, because he might have hurt himself if he was standing. He falls back into the couch cushions, eyes still locked on Skye. He does imagine her in a crown, with the armor and everything, maybe even some of that dramatic wind going through her hair. And she looks  _just like_ Wonder Woman.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.

“-ess,” she corrects. “Godd _ess_.”

His eyebrows rise a little higher and he realizes how silly his expression must look. Not that he cares.

“Demi-goddess, technically,” Skye says, wobbling her hand in midair to illustrate the distinction. “There was this whole thing with Hades and- you know what? _Not_ the issue right now.”

“You’re Wonder Woman,” he says. He’s surprised his voice actually works. His whole body’s feeling kind of non-responsive. _She_ may be fine, but he might need a trip to the ER before this is done.

“Yes,” she says slowly. She’s eyeing him carefully, obviously worried about how he’s handling this.

He should be angry. Really angry. She’s been lying to him for literally their whole relationship. And wasn’t that his first objection when Jemma told him about Grant? Maybe it makes him a hypocrite, but he’s not angry about that. It makes sense. Especially given how much of a mess Jemma’s life is thanks to Grant - and that was before he clued her in.

“You know who Superman is!” he yells, the words coming out as soon as the thought occurs to him.

Skye giggles, just a little, and slaps a hand over her mouth. “Uh, yeah. And I know you know, that’s kind of part of why I was planning on telling you. It went so well with them that I figured … why not?”

“How long have you known?” He’s genuinely curious. Apparently two of the people he thought were his closest friends - okay, one of his closest friends and Grant - have entirely other identities and he has to wonder just how those other lives have been affecting the ones that impact Fitz.

She shrugs. “Forever. Well, not _forever_ , but since I came to town. It’s kind of obvious. I mean, come one, glasses?”

“You wear glasses.”

She scoffs and picks the thick-framed lenses off the table. He’s always wondered that she takes them off when they’re alone. He worried it might be a vanity thing but it turns out she just doesn’t need them.

“I also have magic subtly hiding my identity when I’m suited up. Supes doesn’t have that. He’s just got that same chiseled jaw and cutting cheekbones - I told him it was only a matter of time before Jemma figured him out.”

It _is_ painfully obvious now that Fitz knows. “So when we first met, when you were consulting with the IT department?”

She smiles proudly. “I was just snooping around and Grant went along with it to avoid getting himself outed.”

“Why stick around though? Don’t you trust him?”

“Of course I do! Grant may be a stick in the mud, but he’s still a good guy.”

“Then why?” There have been rumors flying around for months about why a second superhero would up and move to a city that already had Superman. At first most people thought the two might be dating but it quickly became obvious that the two of them had an antagonistic, if cordial, relationship. Knowing who they are when they’re not wearing the tights, Fitz is surprised they haven’t torn the city apart.

Skye knocks lightly on the side of his head. “Uh, hello? I stayed because I found a super cute boyfriend with a sexy accent. And because Grant’s always running halfway around the world or galaxy to save a civilization or Jemma or whatever. Somebody’s gotta stick around to stop the local baddies.” She toes his thigh. “Are you seriously not mad? Because as much as I love the not fighting - and I _really_ do - you’re kind of freaking me out here.”

Fitz shifts his weight on the couch so he can reach around her back. He drags her awkwardly to his side and kisses her temple. “Promise not to tell Grant and Jemma? But nah, I’m not mad.” He just found out his smart, funny girlfriend, the single hottest girl he’s ever met, is also brave and selfless. There’s really no downside to this news. Aside from the worry, but he’s trying not to think about that right now. And, to that end, he stops his nuzzling to say, “And I’ll be even less mad if you go find that silky black thing I like so much.”

She leans away and looks at him like he might have two heads, but two cute heads.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Just- Any other guy would’ve asked for the armor.” She jumps up, sending the blanket flying, and deposits a kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the bedroom. “Two minutes!”

Other guys, he decides as he watches the cable box to see the two minutes pass, are idiots. The silky black thing is hot - and probably a lot less uncomfortable for both of them.


	5. you don't love him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> s1 sex pollen AU (light on the sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Oh, please, you don't love him, you love his hands" from writerblocked
> 
> Warning: side of Simmons/Ward

“No,  _clockwise_ ,” Simmons snaps. “Have you really never done this before?”

Skye moves the paperclip caught between her lips to the edge of her mouth so she can mutter, “You guys have weird ideas about just what I used to do before I joined up.”

“You were a member of a cyberterrorist group. I think we have a very clear idea.”

“ _Hacktivist_.” The paperclip in Skye’s hand - the fourth she’s tried - bends sharply beneath her thumb, throwing everything off. “Dammit!” She throws it aside and snatches the last one out of her mouth to speak freely. “Doesn’t Fitz have something around here just for this kind of thing?”

“Yes,” Simmons sighs, adjusting against the side of the lab table. Her arms must be getting tired from hanging over her head and her wrists are definitely red from the handcuffs. “Unfortunately, he grabbed it while Ward was cuffing me.”

Skye frowns. She’s actually kind of insulted that she wasn’t handcuffed too. Sure, she’s not a super genius like Simmons, but she has skills! She could totally break out of the lab. Or at least blow it up. One of those. 

A tapping sounds at the sealed door. “Skye?”

She leaps to her feet, Simmons completely forgotten. Fitz is standing just outside the door and backs up half a step as she races over.

“Hi!” she says brightly. “Gonna let us out?”

“No.”

Skye’s spirits fall, but only a little. Fitz bends one arm over his shoulder to rub at the back of his neck. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up - he’s been working on something, probably some invention to “fix” her and Simmons - and the motion tightens the muscles in his forearm. Her head tips, following the angle. The hairs at the back of his neck always bother him when he goes too long without a trim, so much that his itching had Ward threatening to shave it  _all_  off during a mission last month. Skye imagines playing with those wispy curls while he puts his strong fingers to better use between her thighs.

Fitz catches sight of her hungry expression and a flush washes over him. His hand immediately drops to his side like he knows what she’s thinking. He knows her so well. Not as well as he knows Simmons, but that’s half the fun, isn’t it? Learning new things? 

She pulls her lip from between her teeth to tell him just that, but he speaks first.

“Ah, Coulson sent me down to tell you that we’re working on figuring out the device the two of you got shot with. And - May’ll have us at the Treehouse soon! So, if we can’t figure anything out, they should be able to give us a hand.”

“Or  _you_  could,” Skye says, arching one lecherous eyebrow. “Give me a hand, I mean. I’d give you one.”

Fitz’s mouth opens in the most adorable little O. He’s bright red by now, from the top of his head down to … well, she can’t see where it ends.

“I-I, uh,  _Ihavetogo_.” He points with both hands to the stairs and then trips over his own feet running to them. She’s worried he’ll hurt himself, but the great view she gets of his ass when he stumbles makes up for it.

She presses her palms against the glass, watching until she can’t see him anymore and staying there for a few seconds longer, just to be sure he’s not coming back. She returns to Simmons’ side much more slowly than she left, her arms swinging lazily and a smile on her lips.

“I love him,” she sighs, sinking to the cold floor.

“Oh  _please_ ,” Simmons says. “You don’t love him.”

Skye blinks. It’s so much like what the others have all been saying - just because it took some alien voodoo to get her to say it, that doesn’t mean her feelings aren’t  _real_ \- that she’s a little worried. Simmons has been her one source of support through all this, the only one who really understands what she’s going through. (She wishes it was Fitz, but win some, lose some.)

“You love his  _hands_ ,” Simmons finishes. “‘Give you a hand,’ huh!”

Skye curls her knees to her chest. “You remember when he was helping Ward diffuse that bomb in Brisbane?” His fingers were so  _fast_ , but so delicate at the same time. Imagine what they could do to a woman.

Simmons sighs. “I’m more remembering Ward taking off his shirt in the Australian heat.”

Skye pulls a face, but it goes unnoticed; Simmons is already lost in the memory. Skye figures she should leave her to it and goes back to trying to pick the cuffs so Simmons can use that genius brain to break them out. The sooner they’re free, the sooner they get to the guys and Skye gets to find out how low Fitz’s blush goes.

 


	6. one sentence fics

 

**Angst**

 

She takes afternoon shift, sitting by his bed while her body recovers from mornings training with May, and wonders if this is what he felt like watching her clinging to life.

 

 

**AU**

 

It’s Fitz’s first mission in the field and he’s already found his soulmate (Simmons is insufferable about it) and she’s a bloody  _terrorist_  (hacktivist is what she said when they accused her); he is  _so_  getting court marshaled. 

 

 

**Crack**

 

“So Loki’s back,” Skye says, just to sum up the situation, “and he knows Coulson’s alive and he thought throwing the two of us in a cargo pod -  _naked_  - would somehow help his evil scheme along?”

 

 

**Future fic**

 

Fitz is the  _only one_  on board with her “we saved the world, we go to Disneyland” plan, which means he’s the only one getting a Mickey hat with his name embroidered on it.

 

 

**First Time**

 

She kisses him on a mission - for the cover! - but she never expected him to kiss her  _back_.

 

 

**Fluff**

 

When the Playground’s heater breaks down in the middle of winter, they decide to spend a long night cuddling on the couch, marathoning Lord of the Rings; by the time the Witch King dies, it’s just Daisy and Fitz sharing a blanket.

 

 

**Humor**

 

They stay under the radar for three glorious weeks before Hunter walks in on them and spends the rest of the day feigning blindness.

 

 

**Hurt/Comfort**

 

She tries to tell him to leave, that it’s not safe, and he just grunts and says if her new powers are gonna bring down the Playground on their heads, he’d rather neither of them die alone, so shove over these cot are barely big enough for one.

 

 

**Smut**

 

“With his bare hands” has taken on a  _whole_  new meaning. 

 

 

**UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension)**

 

It gets so bad that Simmons banishes him from the lab whenever Skye’s training in the cargo bay.

 


	7. missing you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some post-s2 comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a first sentence prompt from safelycapricious

She misses him, even when he’s right next to her. Maybe that’s why she kisses him. It’s as good a reason as any when she’s tired and tipsy and should absolutely be in bed.

If Simmons were here, she’d make them go to bed. She’s such a  _mom_. But Simmons isn’t here and this wouldn’t be happening if she was for a whole lot of other reasons. 

Like how, if Simmons were here, Fitz wouldn’t be deepening the kiss; he’d probably be kissing  _Simmons_  and touching  _Simmons_  and doing naughty, naughty things with her that Daisy should really not be thinking about while she’s kissing Fitz herself because that way lies sad drunk territory.

It’s a good kiss too. A little wet but his tongue -  _God_ , his tongue - makes up for that. And his hands, how are they everywhere? He only has the two, right? She’s trying to pin down the actual number when suddenly they’re on her shoulders, pushing her back.

“What are we doing?” he asks, hoarse.

“Making out,” she says. Maybe he’s more drunk than she thought.

“I mean … what about …” He trails off, twisting one hand through the air like Simmons and Lincoln (right, Daisy’s still hung up on Lincoln, how did she forget that?) are hiding behind that recliner Mack and Hunter are always fighting over.

“Do you not want to?” She winces. That came out sounding way more pathetic than she intended.

He looks like she’s just asked him to choose whether to save a bus full of nuns or a burning animal shelter. She doesn’t like putting that look on his face and tries to squirm out from under him. (When did she get under him?)

He shifts his weight forward, holding her in place and causing a pleasant buzz in her girly area. “Do  _you_  want to?” he asks. “I mean- What are we talking about doing? Why are we even talking about this  _at all_?” Confused as he sounds, he’s still holding her under him.

She reaches for his face. She’s always liked it. It’s a good face. “I miss you.”

“So you kissed me?” He looks like he’s thinking about laughing.

She shrugs one shoulder. “I miss me too.” It’s true. So much has changed in the last two years. If the person she was back then met her now, she probably wouldn’t recognize herself.

May’s gone and Simmons is missing and Coulson’s disappeared behind his desk and there are moments - normal, everyday moments that don’t mean  _anything_  - where all Daisy wants is for someone who’s known her longer than a minute to hold her and be there for her and just recognize her.

“This is really stupid,” she says.

“Yeah,” he agrees and kisses her.

 


	8. by any means necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You gotta do what you gotta do to complete the mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a first sentence prompt from shineyma

“In his defense, you did say ‘by any means necessary.’” That’s Hunter in Skye’s ear. Talking to Coulson. Because they’re on a mission. Which Skye should  _really_  be thinking about right now except when Coulson said “by any means necessary” apparently  _Fitz_  heard “by attaching your mouth to your fellow agent’s.”

Oh. And also “put your  _tongue_  into your fellow agent’s mouth.” But that one might be Skye’s fault; she’s a little too preoccupied at the moment to know for sure which of them started that.

“Guys?” Mack asks.

Skye’s fingers twist in the hairs at the back of Fitz’s neck (she’s always loved his hair, but he’s always been off limits so she never put much thought into it but yeah, really nice hair) and he makes this  _sound_. She wants him to make it again.

“Oh, this is just wrong,” Hunter says from somewhere very far away.

 


	9. coulrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission goes fine. It's Fitz who's having some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a first sentence prompt from safelycapricious

“But how will we get the clown out?”

“How is he, for the moment?” Coulson asks, looking to Simmons.

“Stable, but he needs medical attention. The sooner we get him out of the wreckage, the better.”

“What,” Skye asks, “we don’t have a jaws of life down in the hold somewhere? We’ve got everything else.” Seriously, she found a VHS player down there last week. It was scary.

“Unfortunately no,” Coulson says. “And the circus manager says they don’t have anything that can help either - unless we want to borrow the elephants. Fitz?”

Everyone turns to the guy most likely to come up with a solution to their clown-trapped-in-mangled-train-car dilemma and he is … not paying attention.

“ _Fitz?_ ” Coulson presses. “Any ideas? We need to get the clown out before those injuries become life threatening.”

“Okay, can everyone please stop saying that word?” Fitz demands, turning to face the group - finally. His faces goes pale when he looks at the wreckage over Ward’s shoulder and he turns away again.

“What word?” 

“Fitz, it’s okay,” Simmons says, reaching for him.

“Oh my gosh,” Skye says, realizing what’s going on. “Are you afraid of  _clowns_?”

Fitz rounds on her. “What! No! That’s absurd! Clowns are just people who bring joy to children of all ages and wear fanciful makeup hiding their true faces and oversized clothes that could be hiding any number of weapons or appendages and what were we saying?” He drags at his collar. Simmons tries to soothe him with a hand on his shoulder while Skye bites back her laughter. She should not enjoy Fitz’s pain, but  _appendages_? Really? Does he think they’re lizard people under there or something?

Though that would be cool.

“All right, fine,” Coulson says. Behind his back, Ward is having just as much trouble as Skye is keeping his cool. “From now on we will refer to our victim as- what’s his name?”

“Uh-” Skye checks her tablet- “Mr. Doodles.”

Fitz groans.

“Real name, Skye.”

“That _is_ his real name. Jimbo Doodles. Man, this guy’s parents never gave him a chance, did they?”

“Fine. Fitz, any ideas for getting  _Jim_  out of there?”

Fitz nods bravely and forces himself to take another look at the train car. He turns back to Coulson fast, looking like he might be sick. “Right. We’re gonna need one of the elephants and the van.”

Skye blanks her tablet screen and holds it up next to Fitz’s head, blocking his peripheral view of all things clown-related.

“Thanks,” he says, sounding like he really,  _really_  means it. “We’ll have to pull open the wreckage, but whoever’s driving the van will have to be on the ball. That elephant won’t be able to stop on a dime if something shifts wrong, so the van will have to make up for it.”

“May?” Coulson asks. “Think you can handle it?”

She rolls her eyes and heads for the Bus. “Like you even need to ask.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

And hour later the train car has been successful wrecked even worse than before and Mr. Doodles is being treated on board the Bus. So Skye leaves the others to it and heads to where Fitz sitting on a boulder, facing  _away_  from the accident. 

“The sunset’s the other way, you know,” she says. She made plenty of noise stomping through the brush to get here, so he doesn’t even flinch at the sound of her voice.

“Don’t start.” He sounds mopey. And grumpy. She decides to take a little pity on him.

“Yeah, yeah. Simmons said you’d be touchy about it. That’s why she’s making Ward assist in there, doesn’t want his stellar personality touching a nerve.”

“Nice of her.”

“Yeah,” Skye agrees airily, “but I think I’m gonna win best friend of the day - the month at the very least.”

“And how’s that?” He doesn’t stand up, but he does swing his legs around on the boulder so he can face her. “Because if this is the start of some evil plan to cure me of my fear, I swear, Skye, my revenge will be-  _ohhhhhhh_.”

She grins. She kind of figured he’d go all monosyllabic when he saw what she brought for him. 

“This is Franklin,” she says, lifting her shoulder so the little guy clinging to her hair will perk up. “He’s a-”

“Central American squirrel monkey,” Fitz says, awe-struck. Skye doesn’t think he even knows he’s gotten up. His whole world has shrunk down to Franklin. “Hey, little guy. Hey.”

He holds out a hand and Franklin jumps readily onto it, climbing up his arm and around his shoulders.

“Watch out,” Skye cautions. She has to run around them to keep the leash (the animal trainer made her swear up and down that Franklin would  _never_  be off it) from choking Fitz, but neither of the boys seem to care. Fitz is too giddy having a monkey climbing on him and Franklin is fascinated by Fitz’s curls. It’s a match made in heaven.

Fitz stumbles back to his boulder and Skye joins him to keep a hold of the leash. He’s completely forgotten his fears over the clown - which leads to the whole new problem of getting him to let go of Franklin once this mission’s over. AC’s definitely gonna be pissed when he finds out she introduced them (there  _may_  have been a hasty partial-team meeting in which he ordered the rest of them to keep Fitz from realizing this circus had monkeys for fear of Fitz wanting to keep one), but watching Fitz smile and play with Franklin as the sun sets on them, Skye really doesn’t care.

 


	10. take your shirt off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye comes back from Afterlife with a souvenir

"Before you say anything...take your shirt off."

Fitz does this really impressive (and adorable, how did she not realize how  _adorable_ he was before?) combination of head shaking and hand waving. “ _What?_ ” he demands at the end of it. “We’re about to go on a mission into the bloody  _Arctic circle_  with  _Ward_  and you’re dragging me into bunks and telling me to take off my shirt?”

“Yeah.”

He closes his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” 

She should probably be offended by that, by just how easily he accepts that she’d do something so weird, but she  _is_  doing something so weird so she really doesn’t have a leg to stand on. 

Once he’s got it off, she grabs his shoulders and spins him around.

“Hey! Hey! Watch it! Your hands are cold!”

Skye ignores his fussing, she’s way too caught up in the mark on his back to care. She’s seen his soul mark of course - she’s seen  _everyone_  from the Bus’s, it was impossible not to with them living in such close quarters - but it’s different now. 

For the first time in her life, she has no idea what to say, so she steps away and decides to let nature speak for her.

“Okay?” he asks. “Are we done? Because we really do have a lot of-”

She knows he’s turned around more by the high pitch than the clearer sound of his voice. She clutches her shirt and bra tight to her chest, telling herself the cold is just from the altitude, it has nothing to do with Fitz reading her soul mark for the first time. Because, while she’s seen everyone else’s, he’s the first person to see hers. Inhumans, as it turns out, don’t get their marks until they transition.

Fitz’s fingers ghost over her skin and it sends a shiver up her spine that has nothing to do with temperature. Her heart beats faster. It’s supposed to be good luck that the name is right over it - behind it, whatever.  _Any_  association is a good one.

“That’s my name,” he says softly. His hand falls away and her back goes cold. “How-?”

She tells him about the late-coming marks while she pulls her clothes back on. When she turns around, he’s still not wearing his shirt and the look on his face says clear enough that wasn’t what he was asking.

“I met my parents,” she says with an uneven smile. “My name - my  _real_  name - is Daisy Johnson.”

A gasping laugh erupts from his throat and Skye doesn’t have time to puzzle out what it means before there’s a very eager scientist attached to her mouth.

 


	11. don't go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some season 3 fluff

“Don’t go, please!” Daisy cries, grabbing Fitz’s hand before he’s even halfway off the couch.

He twists his wrist but she holds fast. (Blasted field agent training.) “No,” he says, turning his head away from the screen and raising his voice to drown out the louder groans from the speakers. “Nope. I’m out.”

“I supported you through six hours of Paranormal Activity! Now it’s your turn!” She tugs and he’s convinced she cheats by using her powers to unsteady the ground under him. He falls more onto her than the couch and she’s instantly got her face buried in his shoulder. He screws his eyes shut and sits stiffly even as his hands (traitorous appendages - and after he spent so long working to get them under control again) wrap around her back.

“I draw the line at the undead!” he yells over the sounds of a horse screaming.

Daisy pushes away to look him in the eye. “How are zombies worse than ghosts?”

He shrugs one shoulder - it should really be obvious, shouldn’t it? “Ghosts aren’t real.”

She frowns, confused, before her face clears in utter horror. It’s just the chance he needs to slip out of her reach and he makes a beeline for the door before anyone else can die in this horrible show.

Daisy sits up on her knees and clings to the back of the couch, yelling after him, “Did SHIELD cover up zombies?!”

 


	12. shaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> s2 AU The revelation about Skye's powers does not go well

“Oh my God!” Skye yells, nearly falling off the bed as she sits up. She can’t make it stop. The shaking just gets worse and worse and-

“It’s okay!” Fitz yells, louder than her worrying. “It’s just the bed.” 

He tips his head to the wall and she sees that their old, serial killer motel room (Fitz says it’s not funny and she doesn’t think so either because she was  _not_  joking) is  _so_ old that it’s got one of those weird shaky bed things for a quarter.

“Sorry, I thought that was mine.” He starts handling the coin machine like he’s thinking of tearing out of the wall. “Must be a wire crossed somewhere.”

Skye carefully relaxes her hands in the faded blankets and breathes deep as the bed keeps shaking her. “This isn’t so bad,” she says. The shaking’s a lot less terrifying when she’s not the one doing it.

“Yeah?” he asks and then hops in next to her, forcing her to shove over in the narrow twin bed. She can’t go as far as she’d like or she’s gonna vibrate right off it, so their legs have to touch. It’s … nice.

After her stint in quarantine she got hugs and all, but then everyone found out what really happened and … well …

It’s nice, being touched.

“Hey,” Fitz says. He’s grinning this absolutely  _huge_  grin at her, like he’s not scared at all about being on the run, about being  _hunted_  by their  _friends_. (She kind of wants to cry every time she thinks about it, about him just up and breaking her out, no questions asked.) His voice drops and he lets the vibration modulate it. “This is kind of fun.”

She bursts out laughing and bends over his lap more than her own. Her hand lands on his thigh.

She twitches - touching because they’re on the bed together is one thing, touching other ways is… People are afraid of her now.

Fitz slaps his hand over hers and holds it tight. He’s got their elbows together so when he lays back against the pillows she has to go with him. They stare at the dingy ceiling, colored by the yellowed lampshades.

The shaking gets steadily worse before whatever mechanism’s causing it shuts down and there’s a few moments of nothing but squeaky springs and then they’re still.

“I like this motel better than our last one,” Fitz says into the quiet. His hand’s still in hers.

“Me too.”

 


End file.
